Shadow of Yourself A Drabble Collection
by Fan of Mikey
Summary: A series of drabbles of various ratings and characterpairings.


So the following are 18 drabbles written of various ratings and characters/pairings for the hpunderscoreficathon on livejournaldotcom (which I suggest everyone join and participate in). Please make sure to read the mini-headers before going to the drabble, as at least 2 have content some may not agree with.

**Mum - 104 - G - Harry Potter**  
It isn't the first time you've seen her, no, she's been everywhere. Always out of the corner of your vision, always draped in shadows or reflected for brief moments in glass or the empty, lifeless sight of your friends. But you know it's her, it can't be anyone else. Her red hair flowing behind her by a wind you can't feel, can't breathe. Her eyes that are also your eyes stare back at you sadly, apologetically. You wish you could say you understand, but you don't. You wish you could forgive her, but you can't. She died so you wouldn't, but you're dying anyway.

**Yuck - 120 - G - Ron Weasley**  
It seemed like a genius idea at the time. So what if he hadn't actually mastered the spell before hand? And yeah, so what if Fred and George had taught it to him, they had to be good for something. He wasn't thinking about himself at any rate, he was thinking about Hermione, standing next to him, looking for all the world like she wanted to die. He would have taken the slugs any day if that spell had worked, they didn't taste so bad anyway he guesses, thinks maybe Bertie Botts should have a go at them, if he had been able to wipe that smug look off Malfoy's face, just once. His wand won't always be broken.

**Walled In - 135 - G - Harry Potter**  
He feels like everything is caving in on him, or maybe like he's drowning in something he can't see. The pressure of having to be the hero all the time, the leader, the one who is supposed to save the day, pulling him beneath the surface and it won't let him go. He can't always save. He can't always be good, he's just a boy, he's going to fuck up. But he can't _afford_ to make mistakes, there are too many lives on the line. Too many things he's responsible for. Sometimes he finds himself, unable to breathe, standing out in an open field with nothing but sunlight around him and he can't catch his breath and he wonders if that's what the end will be like. Wonders if he's going to drown in himself.

**View - 108 - G - Harry Potter**  
He could see for miles up here, wonders if it's how Hedwig felt when he let her out of her cage at the Dursleys; finally able to fly free, without restraint, unhurried. There's something about not being held back, of being on his own though, that has a ball in the pit of his stomach. He's waiting for it to drop out. It can't last forever, he knows, his view from the top. There's a war that needs to be fought, that needs to be won. There are more people than he cares to think about that need to be avenged. Life goes on, even on a broomstick.

**Dog - 102 - G - Sirius Black**  
In the morning he wakes as human and he knows it's dangerous but he wants to feel the sun kiss his skin, warm the night chills that have seeped into his bones from lying outside in the park, from spending near-fourteen years locked behind dank stone. There are birds somewhere, chirping their good mornings, music to his ears. It's been too long since he has had fresh air and not the stale breath of death washing over him and he breathes deep, lungs filled to burst and he holds it, waits for and welcomes the burn. It reminds him that he's alive.

**Text - 115 - G -Harry Potter**  
It takes longer than he thought it would to find the last Horcrux, spends too much time pouring over the old volumes, some writ in a language he understands, some he can't and he has to track down a man who may or may not be as old as time itself to translate. He thinks of Hermione during these trips and his heart aches. He doesn't have time for nostalgic, though, he doesn't have time to mourn the loss of everyone who was ever important to him. It takes longer than he thought it would to find the last Horcrux and every second he wastes remembering the things he can't change Voldemort lives, grows stronger.

**Bouncy Ball - 141 - G - Draco Malfoy**  
You're a baby and you're left alone most of the time, you don't see your parents at all until your first birthday and even then it's only quickly. There are no presents, there's no cake or hugs and kisses. Not for you, you're a Malfoy, you do not waste your time on trivial, unimportant things such as love. But your nanny loves you, the one who you're handed to as soon as you leave your mother's womb because she can not be bothered with a crying _thing_, the one who you mistakenly and to no chagrin of your own, you call mum. She loves you and she buys you a gift, a rubber ball that you can just fit in your hand but can't fit in your tiny mouth to swallow. It's the brightest shade of maroon with little gold stars.

**Floral - 130 - G - Harry Potter**  
There are moments, moments when he's alone or when he's with a group of his friends, studying in the library or sitting in his room in Privet Drive, moments when a breeze will flutter his bangs from his eyes and he'll smell the most beautiful scent of flowers anyone could imagine. He's never placed it, couldn't for the life of him find the flowers anywhere on the grounds of Hogwarts our even outside in his aunts garden. He almost asked Snape, once, if he may have heard of something like it, because it was driving him crazy. It wasn't until he was searching through his parents' old cottage that he found that smell, in the closet of his mother and father's bedroom. It was the scent of Mom. Of home.

**Language - 115 - G - Harry Potter**  
He hadn't meant what they all thought he had said. At least he doesn't think so. Actually, he isn't really sure what he said at all. He just opened his mouth and the words came flooding out, like he was a man possessed or something. They can't really hold it against him, can they? It isn't his fault, how was he supposed to know? But now they all look at him as if he's evil, like he's the _heir_. He isn't the heir to anything but a ruddy scar that won't fade and misfortune. If they want that, they can have it. He'd do anything to get Justin to stop looking at him like that.

**Twin - 108 - G - Harry Potter**  
Sometimes Harry wishes he were part of a set. Wishes there was someone else to have his back, to help shoulder half of the burden. He wonders what his life would have been like if his mum had given birth to two boys with her eyes instead of just one, if there would be an identical lightning bold jotting across the other boys forhead. He watches Fred and George and tries to imagine someone looking just like him, sounding just like him. Wonders if he would be good at Quidditch too, or maybe booksmart, like Hermione. Wonders if he would be avenging his death, along with his parents.

**Window to the soul - 100 - pg13 - Harry Potter**  
Some cultures believe that your eyes are the window to your soul. You wonder if people can see that your soul is tarnished, fracture torn in places. You wonder, if when they look into the eyes of Lily Potter's only son, they can see the sacrifice she made for him, if they can see the love that kept him safe, alive. The love that marked him as murderer and savior both. Some cultures believe that your eyes are the window to your soul, and you aren't sure if you believe or not, but you wish you could have anyone else's.

**Zombie - 102 - pg13 - Harry Potter**  
You get to a certain point, you get broken so badly, you can't turn back. Everything you were used to be aren't anymore gets lost somewhere along the way and even when you look in the mirror you don't recognize yourself. Your soul has been stolen and you know there are no artifacts, no sacred relics that holds little bits and pieces of your life. It's just _gone_ and no matter how many things you break, no matter how many years you spend searching for the remnants of yourself, you'll never find it. You're a shadow of yourself, you're the living dead.

**Clock - 106 - pg13 - Arthur Weasley/Lucius Malfoy**  
There was always a thought of doubt, a little niggling bit of fear mixed with a twist of his gut. They were careful, of course they were careful. Invisibility and sound charms, all carefully planned out and thought up. Ones they collected over the years, starting back in their youth at Hogwarts. It would take a genius, or Dumbledore, to break through all of them. But still, there were moments when he would get an icy chill down his spine and felt that at any moment someone would walk in on him. That didn't stop them of course. And he forgot all about that damn clock.

**Trip - 126 - G - Harry Potter**  
Harry tried not to care that the only time he was allowed out of his cupboard when he wasn't going to school was going to be spent with Dudley. He was much too excited about a visit to the zoo, someplace he had never been before and he knew it was going to be thrilling to see all those animals in one place, and he wondered if maybe he'd get to pet one of them. He really hadn't expected to come across something so amazing as a talking snake, or a person, whether that person was him or someone else, who could talk to the snake. He had heard of charmers, of course, and how they played their music. But this was different. This was magical.

**Thriteen - 100 - G - Dudley Dursley**  
You're thirteen and you think you know everything. Your voice changes and you become awkward and no one is your friend they're just afraid of you because of how big you are, because of how big your fists are and they hurt when you punch them. You get everything you heart desires if you whine the right way, throw the right kind of fit at the most opportune time, because your parents just want you to be happy, just want you to shut up. You wonder, and not for the first time, what it would be like to be Harry.

**Laughter - 115 - G - Neville Longbottom**  
The taunting still rings in his ears, now, 15 years later and it's still as vicious, still as cruel, still makes him wish he were someone else. It doesn't matter that he helped saved the world, not when there are voices and words and screams that rings in his head and reminds him of the time when he was nothing but a bumbling fool who couldn't stir a cauldron properly. It doesn't matter that he was right there beside The-Boy-Who-Lived when he took down the monster they'd all been after, not when they lift Harry Potter ontop of their shoulders and he becomes eleven years old again, trampled underfoot and lost in the heroes shadow.

**Wolf whistle - 103 - Hard R - Arthur Weasley/Lucius Malfoy**  
It starts wolf-whistle tease and catcalls from across the courtyard, face to match his hair. It becomes secrets and hidden kisses in the dark abandoned classroom, nips and bites placed along your jaw, marking you, proof that you belong to someone. That you belong. It begins with two wrapped around each other, hands fisted around flushed cocks and in silver strands, everything you are becoming everything that he can give you. You come, whisper-breathing his name, spilling hot over his hand. It ends _Avada Kedavra_ with him lying in your arms, eyes empty and unseeing and you have destroyed more than one man.

**Eyes - 100 - G - Arthur Weasley**  
You hold the baby in your arms, blue bundle-wrapped tightly in careful, shaking hands. He has his mothers' eyes, you think happily, mournfully. He makes little quiet whimper-sounds, like he knows what's going on, like he's trying to comfort you and you clutch him tighter because you're the parent now, the one who will rock him to sleep and feed him when he cries. The one who will teach him just how his parents saved the world. He has his mothers' eyes, you think. He has Ginny's eyes, and you hope he has as much life as she once did.


End file.
